Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move, If there be faith below, or gods above, If innocence and truth can claim desert, Ye Trojans, from an injur’d wretch avert.’

But old Anchises, off’ring sacrifice, And lifting up to heav’n his hands and eyes, Ador’d the greater gods: ’Avert,’ said he, ’These omens; render vain this prophecy, And from th’ impending curse a pious people free!’

Then, fearing guilt for some offense unknown, With pray’rs and vows the Dryads I atone, With all the sisters of the woods, and most The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast, That they, or he, these omens would avert, Release our fears, and better signs impart.

What pow’r, O Muses, could avert the flame Which threaten’d, in the fleet, the Trojan name?

This said, the god permits the fatal fight, But from the Latian fields averts his sight.

Nor less the captive struggles for his life: He writhes his body to prolong the strife, And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts His utmost vigor, and the point averts.

While, cumber’d with my dropping clothes, I lay, The cruel nation, covetous of prey, Stain’d with my blood th’ unhospitable coast; And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss’d: Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, Which I have lost for this eternal night!